


A Rough Start

by ignipes



Series: Winchesters at Hogwarts [2]
Category: Harry Potter - Rowling, Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-17
Updated: 2007-07-17
Packaged: 2017-10-03 03:06:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignipes/pseuds/ignipes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's first week at Hogwarts isn't exactly a success.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Rough Start

_Sammy,_

Thanks for the picture of the dinosaur. I think their supposed to have four legs instead of five so maybe it was a special dinosaur. But its okay because it was red. I like getting mail in the morning when all the owls fly into the great hall like a whole bunch of attack owls. Except they never attack anyone, dont worry, they just steal our breakfasts and bring the mail.

Thats about the best part of the day because everything else sucks especially the classes. They are stupid and all about waving wands and saying stupid words but potions is the worst because the teacher is a jerk who takes away points (houses get points and you're supposed to earn lots but all I do is lose them and everybody is mad at me for it also I got detention twice already) but the other classes are just as bad. All of the teachers hate me but dont tell Grandma I said that cause she'll just say I'm acting out. Besides she doesnt believe you can read anyway so maybe she'll think I'm sending you dinosaur pictures.

I have a plan for tonight if I can get out without Filch seeing me. He is the caretaker and he has an ugly cat. I tried to kick her but she bit me and they hate me too but I think I can get away this time. Dont worry I'll be home soon.

Dean

-

The first time he got caught it was Filch. Stupid, smelly Filch and that evil cat, one of them cackling and the other one yowling while Filch clamped his hand over Dean's upper arm and marched him straight to Professor Sprout's quarters. He pounded on her door until she woke up, then he told her the entire list of Dean's crimes right there in the dead of night. Professor Sprout yawned and blinked in the wandlight, dressing gown wrapped around her and hair in curlers, and she dismissed Filch with a nod of her head. She looked at Dean like she didn't quite recognize him.

The second time he got caught it was a Ravenclaw prefect. Dean didn't even know prefects were allowed to roam around in the middle of the night like stupid tattletales who lived to get other kids in trouble, and that time when they knocked on Professor Sprout's door she recognized him immediately.

The third time he made it all the way outside and to the edge of the forest, but he stopped in his tracks when something huge and hairy thundered in the darkness and burst from the trees. Dean had his wand raised high and ready to fire--if only he knew some real spells and not that useless feather-floating _Wingardium Leviosa_ crap that any idiot could do--but at the last second he recognized Hagrid, the groundskeeper, and decided it was probably better not to attack a school employee. Even if the older kids did say that Hagrid was more like a wild animal than a person and kept werewolf cubs in his cottage and ate raw meat for lunch.

Hagrid asked him what he was doing out so late, and Dean made it halfway a stammering excuse when Hagrid grinned and said, "I bet ye were looking for the mooncalf, weren't ye?"

"Um." Dean shuffled his feet uncomfortably. "Maybe?"

"Brilliant creatures, mooncalves," Hagrid said knowingly, "but it won't be out tonight. Moon's already past full."

"Oh." Dean adopted an expression of terrible disappointment. "That's too bad."

Hagrid nodded as if it was, in fact, the greatest of tragedies. "Maybe next month."

Dean started to back away. Hagrid didn't seem like he was going to bite Dean's head off or give him detention or anything bad, but he was messing up Dean's escape plan.

He made it about ten steps when Hagrid asked, "What's yer name? Don't think we've met before."

"I'm, uh." Dean thought about lying, blaming it on one of his loser housemates who did nothing but glare at him all day, but it would be too easy for him to get caught if something went wrong. "Dean Winchester," he said. Dad had always told him to shake hands if he wanted respect, so he offered his hand to Hagrid. "I'm a first year."

Hagrid leaned down to shake his hand with surprising gentleness. Peering at Dean more closely in the dark, his smile transformed into an expression of confusion. "An' a Hufflepuff, too? Outside in the dark by yerself?"

Here it comes, Dean thought. More detention. "Look, I was only looking for my pet--"

"Didn't know you lot were brave enough to go out by yerselves at night."

Dean bristled. "We're not _cowards_," he snapped. "You take that back!"

Hagrid looked abashed (a very strange look on a man approximately the size of a mountain), and he said, "Didn't mean nothing by it, didn't mean no harm. Jus' that... well, ye know... Ye want some tea?"

"What?"

"Nice, hot, sweet tea." Hagrid smiled again and clapped his hand on Dean's shoulder. "Ye like dogs?"

So the third time he got caught he ended up drinking tea in Hagrid's hut and getting drooled on by a dog the size of a buffalo while Hagrid told him about his favorite kinds of dragons, and he didn't get any points taken off or detention.

But he didn't get away, either.

-

_Dear Grandma and Grandpa,_

Thank you for the chocolate. I like it a lot. I am trying hard in school like you say I should and I'm sorry for getting in trouble it wont happen again. You said to write to you to tell you about school so I am. We learned how to make feathers fly in charms and I got it right on the first try. Jeremy made Professor Flitwicks desk fly instead and it broke the window and a bird flew in all over the classroom.

Tell Sammy hi for me and remember to take him for a haircut so he doesn't look like a gorilla anymore like I know he does. I will write to him also and tell him its okay if he wants to send more dinosaur pictures but maybe you can give him a book about dragons cause I think he would like it.

I have to go to class now. Its potions and its very hard but sometimes we make mistakes and the cauldrons blow up in interesting ways. Yesterday Jane turned everybody blue for the whole day and all the teachers laughed except Professor Snape who said we were stupid but it was still funny and its not bad being blue.

From,  
Dean

-

The fourth time he got caught it was Madam Pomfrey, who didn't believe him when he said he was on his way to the hospital wing because he ate something funny at dinner.

The fifth time he got caught it was because he walked straight into Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, and he was so surprised by the shock of cold that he yelped loud enough to bring Peeves zooming into the hallway, and Peeves bellowed loud enough to bring Mrs. Norris running, and Mrs. Norris yowled loud enough to bring Filch, who marched Dean down to his office and made him sit quietly while he made a great show of adding another report to Dean's file, which already had more pages in it than any other first year. (When Filch wasn't looking Dean sneaked a look in the drawer and saw that a file close to his was almost five times as thick, so he didn't feel bad.) His grandmother warned him before he even came to Hogwarts that wizard ghosts weren't like regular ghosts, and he shouldn't be scared of them or throw salt at them. But even though they were harmless, even the Bloody Baron who thought that glaring menacingly was an Olympic sport, it didn't mean he had to like them.

The sixth time he got caught it was Professor Sprout herself.

She was waiting for him, sitting like a plump round statue on the steps outside the Hufflepuff dormitory, a white cap over her gray hair and fluffy green slippers in the shapes of caterpillars on her feet.

"Professor!" Dean stopped short, his mind racing. "I was just--I mean, I was going to--"

"Oh, Dean," she said. Her wand glowed with pale blue light and cool shadows danced on the stone walls. Professor Sprout shook her head sadly and stood up. She smelled like earth and plants and living things. "What are we going to do with you?"

He thought about his excuses and stories, about all the points he was losing by sneaking out and how much his housemates hated him already, and he looked down at his feet. One of his stupid housemates probably told on him, that's how she knew to wait. Professor Sprout was a nice enough lady, as far as witches went, but she didn't get it.

"You could let me go home," he said quietly.

"Why do you hate it here so much?" she asked. Unlike most adults who asked questions of kids, she sounded like she really wanted him to answer. "Most children your age love coming to Hogwarts."

Because Sammy needs me, he thought. Because magic just kills people, because it's no use being here when he could be out there hunting down the thing that killed his parents, because it would piss his grandparents off if he got kicked out. Because he's no good at school anyway and doesn't even want to be a wizard.

He shrugged. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, just regular clothes, and the hallway felt cold without his robes. "I dunno," he said. "Just don't wanna be here."

Professor Sprout sighed. She reached out to touch his face; Dean flinched but didn't move away. Her fingers were warm and calloused. "My nephew used to have freckles like yours," she said, smiling a little. "A long time ago."

He didn't know what else to say, so he said, "Sorry."

"Go back to bed, Dean," she said. "Do you want me to write to your grandparents?"

"No!" It came out louder than he intended. "I mean... I promise I won't do it again. You don't have to tell them."

She didn't look like she believed him, but he wasn't telling the truth, so he figured they were even.

-

_Sammy,_

I'm glad you liked the book about dragons. I thought you would. I asked Hagrid and he says dragons aren't all bad just like big dogs who can breathe fire. He says when I'm older maybe I can see one. Maybe a red one like you drew. Your too little to remember but once Dad told us about dragons when we were really little. He said they are as old as the hills and people like regular Muggles pretend they forgot all about dragons because they dont want something so big and strong to be real. Dragons are maybe dangerous but I think its good they are real.

Remember dont hide under the bed when Grandma tries to give you a haircut because you need it. You look like a gorilla monkey-brain and probably smell like one too. I'll write more after transfiguration tomorrow.

Dean

-

He waited three days before sneaking out again. He knew how to avoid Filch and he knew how to avoid the tattletale prefects, but there were always portraits watching and ghosts floating around and evil Mrs. Norris torturing little mice everywhere. He felt a little guilty, because he had promised, even if he didn't mean it. It wasn't Professor Sprout's fault he hated Hogwarts, but if she caught him again she would just get in the way.

When his roommates were asleep he slipped quietly out of the dormitory. They were talking to him again, finally, after he hadn't lost any points in three days. He even earned some points for Hufflepuff in Charms, because Professor Flitwick said he really knew how to use his wrist.

He made it out of the dormitory without getting caught, and he was halfway to the school's front entrance when he ran smack into something tall and black and a little squishy.

Robes. And, more importantly, a person inside the robes.

"Out after curfew again, Winchester?"

Even worse: a professor.

"Shit," Dean said, with feeling, as he stumbled backward.

Professor Snape caught Dean by the shoulder of his shirt and hauled him upright. "Twenty points from Hufflepuff for being out of the dormitory at night--again," he said pointedly, Dean tried to twist away but his grip was too strong. "And another twenty points for the use of an expletive directed at a teacher."

"I wasn't talking to _you_," Dean said, rolling his eyes.

Snape ignored him. "I daresay this is an historic occasion, Winchester. Never has Hufflepuff House been so close to achieving negative points due to the efforts of one incompetent child."

"Not as incompetent as the morons in your house," Dean muttered.

"Tell me, is it true what they say about you the staff room?" Snape turned Dean around to steer him back toward the Hufflepuff dormitory. "Are these nightly excursions of yours truly no more than blundering attempts to rid this school of your disagreeable presence?"

"None of your business."

"As a senior staff member of this school, Winchester, it is, in fact, my business." Snape paused significantly. "Still, I should not be surprised, considering your forebears."

Dean couldn't help himself. "What's that s'posed to mean?"

"Do you not even know your own ignominious family history, Winchester?"

Dean didn't know what "ignominious" meant, but since it was Snape he was pretty sure it wasn't anything good. So he said, "Shut up."

"Running away from trouble is practically a family tradition for you. The entire wizarding world was at war," Snape said, speaking each word with relish, "and your grandparents hid behind the walls of their estate to pretend it wasn't happening..."

"Shut up!" Dean didn't like his grandparents but he wasn't going to let some slimy jerk say mean things about them.

"And your mother," Snape went on, as if Dean hadn't spoken at all, "chose to run away entirely to play housewife with a half-wit American Muggle rather than face the duties of her heritage--"

Red-hot anger burned through Dean and he heard a roaring in his ears. He kicked at Snape's legs, jerked himself free of his grasp, and shoved the professor away with all of his strength. "_You shut up about my parents!_"

Professor Snape fell backward against the wall, right into a portrait of several witches having a garden party. The ladies gasped and cried out in protest. Snape recovered himself swiftly, his expression furious, and took two long steps toward Dean.

"Attacking a teacher, Winchester?" Quick as a snake, he lashed out, grabbed Dean's ear and twisted. He turned Dean around, away from the Hufflepuff dormitory, and began leading him by the ear down the hallway. "There is only one appropriate punishment for that offense. It seems to your wish to leave these halls will be granted after all."

"You started it," Dean retorted, hurrying after Snape so the teacher didn't pull his ear clean off. Not that he thought Snape was strong enough, but this was Hogwarts and maybe teachers were allowed to dismember students as punishment.

"If I were you, I would remain silent."

"Make me."

Snape only twisted his ear harder and said, "Do not issue challenges you have no intention of meeting."

Dean thought Professor Snape was going to take him right outside and send him on his way in the middle of the night, or maybe down to the dungeon to lock him up, but they passed by the main entrance of the school and started up the long, shifting staircases.

"Where're we going?" Dean demanded.

Professor Snape did not answer. It felt like they walked for miles, portraits muttering and ghosts watching as they passed by, until finally Snape stopped abruptly. Dean looked around; it was an ordinary corridor, decorated only by a statue of an ugly gargoyle. When Dean looked up at it, the gargoyle winked. He felt a tiny tremor of nervousness. Maybe the punishment for shoving a teacher wasn't being expelled, but instead being fed to a gargoyle.

Snape looked down at Dean, his eyes glimmering with triumph, and said, "Jelly babies."

Dean's mouth dropped open. "What?"

Almost immediately, the gargoyle leapt aside and the stone wall behind it began to scrape and groan as it split along the seams. There was a staircase hidden behind the wall, and Snape dragged Dean into it. The wall shuffled shut behind them.

"Where're we going?" Dean asked again, trying to keep his voice steady and strong.

Snape continued to ignore him. The stone steps jolted beneath them and began to rise, spiraling upward, and Dean wondered if the punishment for shoving a teacher was maybe to be thrown off the top of a tower. He hoped not. One of Grandma's friends talked about her relative who dropped her grandson out of a window just to see if the kid would bounce, but Dean didn't think anybody would be able to bounce all the way from the top of a tower. He was busy trying to think of ways to escape Snape and get free when the staircase ground to a halt in front of a large wooden door. Professor Snape rapped on it loudly, and a moment later the door swung open. Snape released Dean's ear and pushed him in.

It was a large circular room with a massive desk in the center and big windows all around. Behind the desk sat Professor Dumbledore. He smiled brightly when Professor Snape and Dean entered.

"Good evening, Severus! Hello, what have we here?"

Professor Snape said, "I caught this child out of his dormitory again, Headmaster."

"Dear me. Again?" Professor Dumbledore looked directly at Dean, and Dean squirmed uneasily under the piercing blue gaze.

"Indeed," Professor Snape said. "It is becoming a regular occurrence, as I'm sure you are aware, and I feel it is time we deal with it."

Professor Dumbledore nodded, not taking his eyes off Dean. "Oh, I quite agree about that."

Snape went on, "When I attempted to return him safely to his dormitory, he attacked me quite violently and without provocation."

Dean scowled and glared at him. "Only because you wouldn't keep your fat mouth shut."

"Do you see what I mean, Headmaster?" Snape said angrily. "The child is clearly uncontrollable."

"Thank you for bringing this my attention, Severus," Professor Dumbledore said. "I will deal with it from here."

"I propose--"

"Thank you, Severus. Good night."

Professor Snape nodded curtly and whirled around, his robes billowing, and left Professor Dumbledore's office.

"I was wondering when we would finally have a chance to meet, Dean," Professor Dumbledore said.

Dean narrowed his eyes. With so many kids in school he didn't know how Professor Dumbledore knew his name, but everybody said he was the most powerful wizard in the world, even if he was a lunatic. Most students talked about him like he was a crazy old genius uncle they kept locked in the attic.

"Please, have a seat. Peppermint humbug?"

The old man held a bowl of candies toward Dean and waited patiently while Dean stared at them, then came forward hesitantly and took one. He dropped into the chair in front of the desk and waited.

"Professor Sprout is quite worried about you," Professor Dumbledore said. The weird thing, Dean thought, was that he didn't look angry; he looked like somebody with a really good secret. "I've had a letter from your grandparents as well. They are concerned that you aren't adjusting to Hogwarts as well as they had hoped."

Dean snorted and crunched on the candy. "I didn't make 'em send me here," he said.

"No," Dumbledore said. "That was me."

Dean stopped chewing. "What?"

"Your grandmother contacted me some months ago," Dumbledore explained. "She was worried about your education, and she wondered if perhaps you might be better suited to a Muggle school, in spite of being a wizard."

"She did?" Dean asked incredulously. "She never told me that." She had never even mentioned that it was an option; from the first moment Dean had heard of Hogwarts she and his grandfather both told him that's where he would go.

"I encouraged her to send you here anyway, to give us a chance."

"She should've told me," Dean said. He swung his feet to kick the legs of his chair. "I'm not a _baby_. She should've let me choose."

"Perhaps." To Dean's surprise, Professor Dumbledore smiled, his blue eyes twinkling. "I have nothing but the utmost respect for your grandmother and grandfather, but between you and me, I daresay they come from a generation that is not quite used to children as strong-willed as yourself."

Dean eyed the headmaster carefully, unsure if he should smile too. Grandmother and Grandfather usually called him "incorrigible" and "disobedient" instead of "strong-willed," and he would bet ten Galleons that Dumbledore was way older than both of them anyway.

"Nor, I suspect," Professor Dumbledore went on, his smiled fading, "do they quite know what to do with a child who is grieving as you are."

Dean stopped kicking the chair. He looked down, away from Dumbledore's gaze, and studied the tops of his shoes. He heard a soft cooing noise and risked a glance up; there was a brilliant red and gold bird on a stand by Dumbledore's desk, and he could swear the thing was looking at him like it could understand what they were saying.

"How long have you lived with you grandparents?" Dumbledore asked gently.

Dean shrugged. "Year and a half. I guess."

Dad had died just before Sammy's birthday last year. When the social workers in America were trying to figure out what to do with them, Dean had shoplifted some cupcakes and candles from the supermarket to have after dinner at the county children's home. A week after Sammy's birthday, a tall man and woman with accents came to the home and said they were going to take Sam and Dean away, and they did, just like that.

"Do you like living with your grandparents?"

He wanted to answer no, to say something awful about them, but he stopped himself. Grandma and Grandpa were old and kind of weird and not too interested in playing with kids, but they weren't mean, and they always gave Sam and Dean lots of food and toys and even promised to buy them broomsticks when they were old enough.

"'s'okay," Dean said, with another shrug. "Sammy likes it a lot."

"Your young brother?"

"Yeah. He draws me pictures of dragons." Dean felt stupid as soon as he said it, because Dumbledore didn't care about things like that, but it was too late to take it back. It felt even stupider just hanging out there in silence when Dumbledore didn't say anything, so Dean blurted out, "I promised my dad I'd take care of him. I mean, before he..."

When Dad had come back that night, he was more worried and anxious than Dean had ever seen him, checking through the windows of the motel room and making Dean promise, over and over again, that he wouldn't let anybody in, that he wouldn't open the door, that he would take care of Sammy and call Pastor Jim if there was any kind of problem. Then Dad had gone out again, and Dean sat by the window waiting all night. He didn't open the curtains, just peeked through a little crack, getting up every few minutes to check on Sammy asleep on the bed. When he heard the rumble of Dad's car outside, he ran over to the door and threw it open. It was early morning and birds were singing, and Dad climbed out of the car with a big smile on his face, the way he did after a good hunt, and he started to say Dean's name.

But before he could make a sound, before Dean was even halfway across the parking lot, there was a blinding flash of green light and a loud crack. Dean learned later it was the sound of a wizard Apparating away, but he didn't know it then. He only knew that Dad was falling down to the ground and he wouldn't wake up when Dean shouted and shook him, no matter how hard he tried.

"It was a wizard who killed my dad," Dean said quietly. "I hate wizards."

"I know," Dumbledore said. "There are some very bad wizards in the world, just as there are some very bad Muggles. And there are some very good wizards, just as there are very good Muggles."

"Nobody ever caught him, the wizard who killed my dad. They never even caught him." Dean hadn't seen the man--or maybe it was a woman, a witch, he didn't even know--and he was the only witness, the one the Muggle police questioned over and over again. They finally declared the death "natural causes," because they were too stupid to believe anything else.

"Is that why you want to protect your little brother?"

Dean nodded. "I have to," he said. "Sammy needs me." Even as he said it, though, he thought about Sam at their grandparents' house, happy just like a regular kid and playing with his toys and reading Martin Miggs the Mad Muggle comics. "He needs me," he said again, looking up at Dumbledore desperately.

"Of course he does," Dumbledore said. "You're his brother. Brothers look out for each other. Why, I myself would be stuck in the form of a bright orange duck-billed platypus if it weren't for my brother." He paused and stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Of course, he was the one who changed me in the first place, so I suppose it evens out."

Dean imagined the goofy old wizard before him as an orange platypus, maybe with a long white beard under his beak, and he fought back a smile. He wondered if he would ever be able to change Sam into a platypus just for fun.

Then he remembered that he hated Transfiguration class, or he was supposed to, and he felt a funny little twist in his stomach.

"Tell me something, Dean." Professor Dumbledore waited until Dean met his eyes. "I know that you want your brother to be safe. Do you think you can protect your brother better than your grandparents can? They are two fully-trained wizards, you know, and your grandfather used to be an Auror. Do you know what that means?"

He had heard Grandfather mention it once or twice, but Grandfather didn't like it when Dean asked questions. "He worked for the government," Dean said. He knew that much was true.

"Yes, he did, but he did much more than that. Aurors are rather like police in the Muggle world. It is their job to hunt and capture Dark Wizards, and your grandfather was one of the finest the Ministry has seen this century."

Dean gaped at the headmaster. "No way!" He tried to imagine Grandfather in his moth-eaten sweaters and brown loafers chasing down bad wizards, but he couldn't imagine Grandfather moving fast enough to surprise anyone. "All he does is read the paper and smoke his pipe."

"Enjoying a well-earned retirement, I should think," Dumbledore said. "But I would venture a guess that he still knows a thing or two about keeping people safe from dark magic."

"He never _told_ me," Dean said, suddenly angry. He wasn't a stupid little kid. It's not like he was too young to understand what somebody did for a living. "Why didn't he tell me?"

"That you will have to ask your grandfather," Professor Dumbledore replied. "But for now, it seems to me there is a decision to be made."

Dean bit his lower lip and waited.

"I am going to let it be your decision, Dean," Dumbledore said. "You are remarkably mature for an eleven-year-old, and it seems to me adults have been taking important decisions out of your hands for too long."

Dean didn't know what Professor Dumbledore meant by that, but he asked, "You mean about staying at Hogwarts?"

"Yes. Your teachers assure me you have quite a bit of potential as a wizard. Professor Flitwick is particularly impressed with your Charm work. You could do well here, if you choose." Dumbledore folded his hands together on his desk and looked at Dean steadily. "Do you want to leave, as you have been attempting to do in various bold ways throughout the past week, or do you want to give this drafty old castle a fighting chance?"

It should be easy, Dean thought. He hated Hogwarts. He hated magic. He hated wizards. His housemates hated him--but, a little voice in the back of his head whispered, that was kind of his own fault, for losing so many points already and getting into so much trouble. He had to take care of Sammy--but, that same little voice whispered, Sam loved magic and he would be here at Hogwarts himself in a few years. Until then Grandpa was a _real live Dark Wizard catcher_, even if he never told Dean, and he probably knew all kinds of things about hunting evil that nobody else knew.

Dean started kicking the legs of the chair again. He had to find the monsters or people that killed Mom and Dad. He had to, he knew he had to, it was the only thing he could do for them now.

But... but those things were magical, and Dad always said you have to know your enemy before you go after it, otherwise you'll end up hunting a zombie with a shotgun and you're just stupid if you do that.

Professor Dumbledore was watching him carefully. So was that weird bird.

"People can really get _jobs_ hunting evil things?" Dean asked. "Real jobs? That get paid and everything?"

Dumbledore gave no sign that it was a strange question. "Oh, yes," he said. "It's a very difficult but very prestigious career. You can ask Professor Gribbingston all about it in your next Defense Against the Dark Arts class."

Dean didn't point out that in order to have a next Defense Against the Dark Arts class he would have to stay at Hogwarts, because from the way Dumbledore was looking at him he was pretty sure that was the point. If he left, he thought, Grandma and Grandpa would just send him to some pansy all-boys Muggle boarding school anyway, and those schools probably didn't have classes about fighting evil. Not even in Britain.

"Okay," Dean said slowly.

"Wonderful! Welcome to Hogwarts, Mr. Winchester." The funny thing was, Dumbledore really did look like he thought it was wonderful. Dean figured everybody was right about how crazy he was. "There remains, however, the matter of your recent misbehavior."

Dean groaned. He was kind of hoping Dumbledore had forgotten about that.

-

_Sammy, _

Youll never guess who I met it was Professor Dumbledore. He looks just like he does on his Chocolate Frog card. He's nice for a wizard and has a really funny bird in his office. He told me that grandpa used to be a ~~orr~~ ~~arer~~ wizard whose job it is to catch evil wizards. Like what dad used to do except with magic and they dont use guns cause wizards dont like guns. So grandpas house is safe at least until youre big enough to come to Hogwarts with me. I think you will like it when you get here.

Not that Hogwarts is really safe, we have our first flying lesson today and that means brooms that go high in the air maybe all the way to the top of the castle. But Cedric he's a second year in my house he loves to fly and he said everybody has to do it even if they hate flying. So I guess I will too. I'm not scared I just think if people were supposed to fly we would have wings, and not just when something goes wrong in transfiguration class.

I'll write you later to let you know if I fall off and break my arm or something.

Dean


End file.
